Don’t listen. Don’t feel.

The world is empty,
The world is void.
There is nothing of value
that you can’t exploit.

The clouds hold steady
a flaky path,
but none but a child
can safely pass.
And the moon as a light house
shows the way,
for here the innocence cannot stay.

Don’t listen. Don’t feel.
Remember that your own self is what’s truly real.

And cages loom as pricey valuables,
and freedom thrives in an surrealist dream!
All think they are free to fly…
but life isn’t as liberating as it seems.

And through the verdict of an uncorrupted mind
lies no fear, no doubt, trouble shows no sign.
And the wind beats heavily,
the drop seems steady and never ending;
but dreams in pursuit
are pursued steadily.
And to grow up is the true sin,
for that is when the birds stop to sing.

Don’t listen. Don’t feel.
Remember that your own self is what’s truly real.

Stop.
Stop insisting.
Stop listening and stop resisting.
Listen to your words! Listen to your voice!
The wisdom of enjoyment,
is what brings true rejoice.

And the path seems gray to old and skeptical,
but to a child is a world full of eclecticals.*
It is a mystery…
It is magic…
It is a world where adventure
doesn’t just happen in the attic.

And life goes on as a tasteless struggle,
but a child stays whole and keeps getting in trouble.
Don’t listen. Don’t feel.
Remember that your own self is what’s truly real.

*made up word derived from eclectic and just like a child would make a word based on another, the world is full of collectibles called eclecticals

Contributor: Andrea Arias

Featured Image: Delphine Devos

Copyright © 2014 Andrea Arias. All Rights Reserved.

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